Broken Arrow
by storm-stellar
Summary: Ayne Mahariel has had to make tough choices in her life - but she had no idea that this one would change her life forever.  Titles of chapters have been renamed
1. Guilt

Hi! :D This would be my first DA:O fic. I have played Awakening, but I edited quite a few choices that you can possibly make in the game. Character dialogue has also been heavily edited primarily because I can't actually remember what happens in the game, and I have to bend it to fit the situations here. Hopefully that's not frowned upon x_x If it is, I truly apologize!

I own nothing of Dragon Age. If anything, I own my fem!Mahariel. Hope you enjoy! (: Reviews are love!

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"_No." his fist removed itself from the wall, and he strode past her, turning his back to look out of the window. "If he is to fight, he will not be seen talking to me, or attempting to take control of the armies of this castle. He will take control of the armies that we have from our recruitments and treaties, apart from the Knights of Redcliffe. If he is to fight, you will be the one to take full responsibility of his actions, which includes how he may just get up and leave the battlefield like he did at Ostagar. Since you have chosen him over me...Ayne, we no longer know each other. I am the King of Ferelden, you are a Grey Warden I once knew."_

"_Alistai-"_

"_Out. Just get out."_

_

* * *

_

Ayne opened her eyes in a fright – that scene again. She hated it, it just reminded her of the decision that she had to make, the decision that ultimately cost her the one man she loved. Honestly till now, she questioned her decision sometimes, wondering what would have happened had she chosen to let Loghain die. Maybe Alistair would still be by her side.

She couldn't remember how long it had been since she had last seen him. A year maybe? Possibly more. Contact between the two of them was effectively cut off the moment he told her to get out. A year had passed, and she still couldn't really let it go. Sighing as she got up from the bed, she moved to the window. It was barely morning with the sky still a greyish-blue, with a layer of mist, a cool breeze supplied by the light shower - perfect weather to sit in the Keep's library and read.

Moving to the mirror, she gazed at her reflection. She didn't realise that there were so many bandages on her. Across her lower elbow, around her right calf and across her abdomen, all of which were sustained during the struggle with the Mother. She winced slightly as she touched her stomach, having the deepest gash of all. "Getting much too careless for comfort," she muttered as the bandages were changed, ground elfroot placed directly on the wounds. Dressing in her drakeskin armour, she slung her longsword and dagger over her back and headed to the library.

It was rather surreal as she walked down the halls of the Vigil, knowing that so much had happened over such a short period of time. In just over a year and a half, she had stopped the Blight from truly occurring, killed the Mother, which subsequently led to the darkspawn threat eliminating itself. And yet, to her, all she wanted to do was to go home to her clan and see them. She hadn't had time for anything related to her Dalish nature ever since the Blight that never began, or the subsequent problem with the Mother. In all honesty she felt like running away from all her duties for a while, go to Ostagar and find her clan again, to talk and spend time with. It had been so long that she had met her clan – she wondered how Marethari was doing, whether or not Fenarel had improved in his archery such that he could best her, if Merrill had become less stern. She smiled slightly at the thought. _If anything, at least Alistair had enough sense and gave them Ostagar for them to settle down instead of moving about all the time._

She stopped herself when her eyes came across that particular painting – Cailan Theirin's portrait. She had met him only once before, and while there were differences to how they looked, the resemblance was slightly disturbing. Walking away from the painting, it was like having Alistair's eyes and warm smile follow her, which was something she wanted to forget and avoid. It only triggered bad memories.

It felt weird to finally address her feelings on the whole problem, her emotions, her take. In the year and a half she just hadn't had time to tend to her failed relationship and attempt to talk to Alistair regarding his reaction. She knew that she had closed off the emotional side of her for that time, to tackle the problem at hand, but after everything was gone, there just wasn't a purpose. She felt so apathetic towards everything, but she knew that something had to be done, to attain closure.

The withstanding issue was painfully obvious – she wanted to apologize to Alistair when he had calmed down, to apologize for her actions then since it hurt him. However, if she were to talk to him now, would it reopen the wound that she had caused, and reignite the embers of his anger, or would it cause those said embers to be completely put out? Even if she _did _talk to him, it would be awkward, and she wasn't good with awkward situations at _all_. Even when she was reporting to the wives of the deceased Blackstone Irregulars, she always had (well, well) Alistair or Wynne do the explaining for her. Having that inner turmoil had cost her, to the point that now she was only sure of two things: that she was unclear whether or not she was still in love with Alistair, and whether or not she should apologize, due to her being completely unclear on her own emotions in the first place.

It wasn't that she was Tranquil like the mages that she had met, with every single form of emotion stripped away. She was just unsure regarding anything to do with emotions, when to discern care and concern from love.

_You just don't want to admit that it was your own actions that caused Alistair to leave you. That it was your fault._

Placing her emotions at the back of her mind, she closed her eyes and calmed herself down. There would be time later to handle her emotional problems – she'd write a missive to Wynne and Zevran later, ask them for their opinion. Although her comrades had gone their separate ways, she knew how to contact Zevran despite him wandering all over Ferelden, and she knew Wynne would be at the Tower. Through her journey, the two of them were particularly close to her, giving her comfort whenever she needed it. Taking heart in their presence, Ayne took a deep breath and continued walking on. It was a new day at the Keep, and there was a treasure trove of books waiting for her.

* * *

Slipping behind the bookshelf, Nathaniel looked at her. It was that same wistful look, the same look she had whenever her guard was down. As a rogue, he could tell when she was putting on a front. Call it gut instinct, but he was able to catch people off-guard. He could tell from the start that Ayne was always putting up a front – she would never show emotion, she would never show weakness in front of her men whenever they were on the battlefield. Even when they were in the Keep, she rarely let down her guard. In a sense she was never truly herself. There were only two instances thus far that he had seen her let down her guard.

The first was when he had seen her smile and laughing with Anders. He had to admit it - the mage had a way of opening people up, to let them relax around him. _Must be his ridiculously jovial and kind nature, even if he is an apostate. _Her smile was beautiful, the way her amethyst eyes seemed to sparkle each time she laughed. While she laughed, Anders would smile warmly and look at her, like an older brother looking after his younger sister, giving her a slight hug whenever she had to leave due to her duties that waited for her.

The second was when she was talking to him, in front of the portrait of Theirin in the hallway. He had walked up to her while she was staring at it without saying a word. He was about to call out for her, but when he got closer, he noticed that her eyes were near the brink of tears, her expression one of sadness, close to hopelessness even. It was then she noticed he was coming and quickly wiped her eyes, turning away for a moment. When he gotten close enough to reach out, she turned around again, stone-faced.

"_Commander? Are you alright?"_ He had reached out, putting a gloved hand on her shoulder.

"_I'm fine, Nate," _she had even give him a quick smile. The slight quaver in her voice had given her away, but her eyes, her face remained blank like a slate. She could smile and yet tell him she was fine when she was so close to tearing earlier.

Other than that though, there was no times that he recalled where she visibly let her guard down, where she showed any kind of emotion. Her demeanour around others was like a slate – blank and cold.

It worried him.

She could hide her emotions so quickly and so well – he wasn't fooled, but it was actually quite convincing. He was sure that she did this quite often as well, else she wouldn't have recovered so quickly from the time he saw her in front of the past King's portrait.

The two of them had become closer throughout their fights together, and more than once she had opened up to him, telling him about her clan, about Tamlen. Apart from that however, it was a mystery. He realised that no one actually knew Ayne very well, that all they knew was the surface, nothing deeper.

He was fascinated with her, and wanted to know so much more about her. As he sneaked away from the library, he sighed and threw a last glance at her.

There was a wall between her and everyone else in the Keep – he hoped he could help break it apart.

* * *

Varel sat in his study in the Keep when a messenger came running to him. Handing him a missive, he recognized the seal immediately. Tearing it open, he scanned it, his face turning slightly pale.

"Give this missive to the Warden-Commander," his voice became grim, "tell her the King is coming in less than 2 days."

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**Author's Note: **Yay, so the first chapter is up! Let me know what you think; love it, hate it, suggestions, comments? ^^


	2. Hesitance

Whooo~ It's come to the second chapter! Reviews are love!

As usual, I own nothing from Dragon Age but Ayne Mahariel. Hope you enjoy! I think this chapter's significantly shorter, but the next chapter would be longer. Hopefully!

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"What in the name of Andraste is he coming for? What was so important that he had to come down here in person, to tell her? Don't Kings usually just send missives and be done with it?" Anders leaned against the walls as he talked to Nathaniel. "I don't even dare to ask her why she's this upset."

Putting down his bow upon seeing the arrow fly straight and pierce the straw dummy, Nathaniel turned around and raised an eyebrow at the mage. "You don't think you should ask her? You're the closest to her, as far as anyone in this Vigil is concerned. Even Oghren didn't dare to ask her, and he's been with the Commander far longer than you have." His attention returned to the target as he let the arrow fly.

"Oh come on, she's rather close to you too. And that's the point, dear Nate. If even the forever-drunk dwarf, that she's known for a far longer time than myself, couldn't talk to her about it, what makes you think _I_ can?" He let a spark of lightning fly, letting it hit the wall. "Honestly though, it really makes me wonder why she's so hesitant and unwilling to see him."

_I have a good idea why – but you and I both, Anders. You and I both._

"Come on. We're talking to Oghren." Nathaniel fired the last shot and went off to the armory, Anders following his every step with Ser Pounce-a-lot.

* * *

She needed to talk to someone.

Staring at the missive, she felt like burning it, destroying it, never to see it again, but it wouldn't solve the problem of Alistair coming to the Keep. How was she supposed to talk to him? Call him by name? Or go by Your Majesty and the like. The flurry of thoughts was stabbing every corner of her mind – there were so many things to tackle. At this rate her head was going to explode like Dworkin's explosives. She wanted so desperately to write to Zevran and Wynne, they always gave her the much needed support and advice, but there was no time. Getting the missive to Wynne would take days, and since Zevran was wandering around Antiva, getting a missive to him and having a reply in time was impossible.

She reached into the drawer of her desk, and gently took out the necklace she had received when she was talking to Ashalle. A beautifully carved pendant, with animals of the forest across the entire chain. Just looking at it, she felt herself calm down. "What should I do, Mother?"

She was just about to wear the pendant when a knock on the door came. "Commander?"

Lowering the pendant into her desk, she shut the drawer just as the door swung open, Nathaniel stepping in, his bow strapped onto his back. She smiled slightly, but kept her guard up. There was just something about Nathaniel that struck her as odd – it wasn't that he was a bad man. On the contrary, he was nothing like his father, a very kind and loving person, as she had observed when he had found Delilah. It was just that whenever she was around him, she felt as though she was read, analyzed, like a book in the library, even though his gaze was kind. She trusted him; he knew some things about her past, that she had to be taken away from her clan by force with Duncan using the Right of Conscription on her, just as she had done on him, but there were some people and incidents that she preferred not to disclose, not until she felt closer to him.

_Alistair. _

"Commander…are you alright?" Nathaniel closed the door as he looked at her. Again with the analyzing gaze. "Anders and I were concerned about you as you don't seem keen on meeting the King."

He noticed her eyes were narrowing slightly and the atmosphere suddenly seemed so dark, so heavy. His guess was right, and Oghren was telling the truth. She knew that he knew. "I'm fine, Nathaniel." Bad sign. She rarely called him by his full name anymore, usually sticking with Nate. "Where are you going with this?"

"We were concerned about you so we talked to someone about you and the King, who then told us of your previous relation with the King, and so I came up to talk to you about it." Nathaniel said as he walked towards her, as her gaze morphed from surprise to slight anger. He took a chair and sat himself down, facing her. "Why didn't you tell any of us about your previous relation with him?"

"Who told you that?" her tone was a monotone, and he could feel her anger seeping through slightly.

"I prefer not to disclose my source of information, but know that we merely enquired out of concern for you," his eyes locking onto hers.

Silence as she stared at him, her eyes meeting his. Purple meeting grey. She kept silent for a while before opening her mouth, her tone slightly scathing. "I'm going to kill Oghren."

"As I said, we merely enquired out of concern," Nathaniel's gaze softened slightly as he looked at Ayne. Her gaze faltered and she looked down at her hands. "Would you allow me to speak freely, Commander?" A small nod as she looked at him again.

"Oghren gave me the information as he was unsure on how to go about helping you, claiming that he was too much of an insensitive nug to do so. He told Anders and I, hoping that the both of us would be able to do something to help you. He was concerned that you would take to the news badly, and I daresay he's right." Moving his seat to be nearer to her, he saw her hands tremble slightly. "Ayne, let us help you. What happened between you and Alistair?"

She looked at him again, straight in the eye. Purple met grey once more. He wasn't going to tell Ayne, but now that he better knew the scars that she carried from her past, he was going to be there all the time just to make sure that she was alright.

"_Best the both of you take care of her. She's gone through a whole lot. Removed from her clan by force, her boyfriend comin' back to haunt her, and now Alistair's up an' left her. It ain't fair for her, but she's still going about her life, pretendin' it doesn't bother her."_

She got up and smiled, and this time, even though her smile was slight, he felt a warmth bloom from his chest, spreading outwards. "Thank you…Nate. I will explain everything to you later, I promise, after tomorrow. For now, I'll go have a look around the Vigil, make sure that everything is up to standard for Alistair's visit."

He stood up with her and looked straight at her. Her eyes sparkled – she looked full of life. He couldn't help but feel happy that he had managed to get her to smile, to truly smile, something that he had seen Anders do before, and felt slightly jealous about. Knowing that it was his time to make an exit, he got up and opened the door.

"Nate? Thank you. Thank you very much for asking," she said, the gratitude in her voice unmistakable. "After I'm done with the inspections, do you want to do some target practice? Or go hunting?"

Feeling his own smile come onto his face, he turned and gave her a nod before exiting. Just as he exited, he felt the warmth race throughout his body much faster, and kept the smile on his face as he almost ran from her study.

What he didn't know was that Ayne felt a tinge of warmth too – even though she did not truly know what it was.

* * *

"Mage, tell me somethin'," Oghren started as he sharpened his battleaxe with a whetstone.

"Tell you what? That you stink? How about this – you reek of ale, and you smell of dead skunk. Isn't that right, Ser Pounce-a-lot?" Anders tweaked Pounce-a-lot's nose slightly, who meowed in support of Anders.

"Har har. No you stupid nug, I wanted to ask yer something." He picked up a small bit of rounded stone and threw it at Anders who promptly froze it and looked at Oghren who turned to face him, putting the battleaxe down. "Is the Howe in love with the Commander? I swear, the way he asks about her is just screaming that he adores her."

Anders stood up in disbelief, his mouth hanging open.

"You have got to be kidding me," he picked up Ser Pounce-a-lot and stroked him between the ears as he walked back inside the Vigil. "I always knew that you were slow on the uptake, but to be the _last _person to realise it apart from Ayne herself is stretching it, dear dwarf."


	3. Perspectives

Ah, finally. Chapter 3 is up.

As usual, I do not own Dragon Age, but I do own Ayne. :D Reviews please! They make me work faster 8D

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She sat on the edge of the battlements as the sun started to rise. A new day. Just hours from now, Alistair would be walking down the halls of the Keep, and they would have to see each other after such a long time. She didn't know how it was going to play out, but she prayed that it would go as smoothly as possible. Granted, she was gaining some assurance that it would, judging from how Varel (he had been let in on the relationship by Nate – and for some unknown reason, he wasn't surprised), Anders and Nate had taken measures to make sure it would run smoothly, of which one of them was to have someone by her side constantly, never leaving her alone should the King be in the room. Yet, she still felt nervous. It had been so long since she sent those missives to him, of which none of them he replied to. It was so long since she saw him in the flesh – she had changed, and not just physically. How would she carry herself while talking to him?

She felt that the best way to face him was the same way that she had faced Cailan when she had met him; with distrust, suspicion and anger. It would represent a new start for them, especially since there was no reason for her to trust Alistair. _He broke the bonds with me, not I with him. _Deciding she would treat Alistair like how she had first met Cailan, she remembered the attitude she put on – refusing to even look at him or speak to him, openly displaying her anger and frustration of having the Right of Conscription invoked upon her, showing her distaste for shems very openly. And yet, Cailan smiled, moved forward and treated her with surprising kindness and warmth.

Alistair was no different. Admittedly his tendency to deflect questions with ridiculous answers did wear her thin at times, but he had taken Ayne's hesitance and anger towards him without any issues, and talked to her as though she were human, as though she were a close friend. Bit by bit, he helped to break the shield that she had held up for so long, helping her be more comfortable, more free. He had taught her lessons of the shems, but there was one particular one that stood out.

It was when they had just recruited Sten and Leliana to join their cause. When they had gone back to the fire that night…

"_I am Dalish – I know how the elves felt when they were under such subjugation from shems in the past. Even now we Dalish often meet with them, and they come with bows, axes, swords, threatening us to leave even though they were the one who chanced upon our camp. Always the hostility, always the brute force," she sat next to Alistair as Morrigan made her camp far away from where they were sitting. _

"_Do you?"_

_She looked at him with an inquisitive look. _

"_I mean, do you really understand how they felt? Subjugation from the past and racism are two different things. Don't take this the wrong way, but you have to remember that you weren't alive when the elves were forced to undergo such ordeals, so you wouldn't actually know how they felt and what happened to them," he commented as he poked the fire with a nearby stick before finally throwing it in._

"_Are you trying to say that Marethari and Paivel were liars?" her eyes ablazing._

"_Wha-? Absolutely not. Everyone knows how horrendously the elves were treated – it's not a huge secret after all. All I'm saying is that you don't actually understand how they felt, not fully at least. If you took offence at that earlier however, I sincerely apologize, and know that I meant nothing by it." She looked at him, her eyes asking him to continue._

"_Your anger at humans for mistreating your people is completely understandable, but what I'm trying to say is that you weren't actually __there__, you weren't alive to understand just how painful and frightening the mistreatment must have been. So you can't say that you actually know how they felt. The history that your Keeper and storyteller told you are all true, I am sure, but unless you were actually at the time when the elves were treated, you wouldn't know how they felt. You couldn't. Am I making sense?" the ends of his mouth curled into his roguish smile._

_Silence ensued between the two of them and Ayne let her head rest on her knees as she stared at the fire. He was right, to an extent._

_There was just one problem._

"_Alistair…you do know that what you said doesn't actually have anything to do with the elves, right?"_

"_Absolutely – but it's something worth thinking about." He got up and talked to Leliana as Ayne continued to sit by the fire._

About perspective, about truly knowing. It was just one of the lessons that she had been taught while on the journey, among many others. She learnt about trust, about family, and about love, falling for him. In the end however, she just felt so betrayed. It wasn't that she didn't understand that what she had done must have seemed like a huge betrayal of his love, but somehow she felt justified. She wouldn't have done it had there been another way – there just wasn't. She put her duty above her personal feelings. Didn't Grey Wardens of all people, understand that concept very well? And yet…

It was for the greater good – she knew that very well. And yet…it hurt. It was painful to think that she helped to tear their entire relationship apart.

Regardless, she had made the first move, sending him a missive a few weeks after the Archdemon was killed. She wanted to apologize, to extend her hand to at least be friends, understanding that being lovers was no longer an option, but he never sent back a reply, never acknowledging that he had even received the missive at all. In all honesty, now that she knew Alistair was just hours away, she felt like denying him the right to see her, to even talk to her, to let him feel what it was like to make an effort and consequently, be ignored.

However, her duty as Warden-Commander obligated her to have an audience with him. Funny how that was what tore them apart in the first place.

The orange-golds from the sun started to stretch over the sky. Just a while more, she would have to face her fears head-on. Taking the bow she had slung across her back, Ayne made her way to the archery range, all the time having a hand over the pendant Ashalle had given her. She had put it on that day, hoping to have her father's courage spill into her. She needed every bit of it to not buckle when she saw Alistair later on.

She took aim as the arrow drew backwards. While she didn't know what was going to happen and how Alistair was going to react, her mind was at last, clear. She had to tell Alistair the many things she wanted to say, the things that should have been said such a long time ago, and in the process, not lose her own mind and self to her emotions. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath as she finally reopened them.

"Vir Assan," she breathed before the arrow soared. It flew, wavered a little, and hit the target.

It was off-centre.

* * *

While Ayne stood at the archery range, removing the arrow to put it back into her quiver, she didn't notice Nathaniel staring at her from the window in the Keep. It was slightly creepy, but he found it rather fun from time to time, just to watch her, to look at her, like her own guardian angel. He would stare at her so intensely until she would instinctively sense someone was looking, before ducking behind the pillar, wondering what her expression of puzzlement would be like, staring at somebody that wasn't there. While rather ill-natured, it was fun to watch her slightly perplexed, a contrast to her unusually calm demeanour. Had it been Anders or Oghren, the mage would have just sent a fireball towards the pillar, while Oghren probably wouldn't have noticed him altogether. He liked to abuse his ability from time to time, knowing that concealing his presence was one of the three things that he could (rather) safely say he was better than Ayne at. Concealing his presence, archery and poison-making.

Walking to the entrance of the Vigil, he started to calculate what he should say to the King when he came. Now that he knew about their previous relationship, he suddenly felt that assaulting the King was the best option for everything. For just causing all that hurt, the unbelievable insensitivity of everything. He couldn't really help it, and willing himself to keep calm during their meeting was the only option, so as not to disgrace Ayne or the Grey Wardens.

As the crack of sunlight started to spread across the sky, he could see smoke in the distance. It had to be from their camp. In a matter of hours, they would reach the Keep, and he would have to meet the King.

A disgraced noble and the King of Ferelden. Seeing Ayne look into the distance as well, knowing the smoke had caught her eye too, he looked back at the sky. Closing his eyes, he prayed a silent prayer, for everything to go well.

* * *

Lifting the entrance of the tent aside, he stared at the fire in the middle of the camp. Some of the knights were still asleep, others still on guard duty. As the smouldering embers started to burn themselves out, he looked at the smoke that rose from the centre of the camp. He still remembered the days where they would just sit around the fire and talk. She would poke the burning wood, and tell stories that the storyteller from her own camp used to tell the younger children, stories that she still held dear to her. She would speak proudly of the history of the Dalish, and sometimes divulge bits of information regarding their lore. His world expanded when she was around, since she was the reason he got to interact with so many people, people from different walks of life, all striving for the same thing. It was rather amazing when he stopped to think about it carefully. If she wasn't around, maybe they would not even have the chance to meet at all.

It was not a prospect he liked to think about.

Hiding himself slightly from the view of the guards, he sat on the chest near the entrance of the chest, stocked with elfroot and different poultices. Even though he was the one that called for their meeting, he didn't know how he was going to talk to Ayne. Eamon had advised that he just do so without any particular thought, and to "just charge in like you usually do, Alistair". Alistair was just unsure about what to do when he met her. How does someone prepare to meet another that they had not seen for so long? How did he apologize for the act that he committed against her from so long ago?

"_Do you still love her, Alistair?" Eamon commented as he read through the missive that Alistair had written, while Alistair himself stood at the window. "It's been so long since you've last seen her."_

"_I'm not sure, Eamon. I think I'll know when I see her. And besides, I do have something of importance to talk to her about, something that cannot be ignored," he turned to look at the missive that Eamon was now sealing. "Do you think that what I did…what I said to her, was wrong, Eamon?"_

"_In all honesty?" Eamon looked at him as the sealing wax cooled, with Alistair nodding his head slightly. "Yes. She had her own faults, but she had to make a choice of that magnitude. The pressure that she must have faced was undeniably immense, literally having the life of a hero at her hands, as well as the future of this entire country's on her shoulders, and you were not helping her at all, reacting like that."_

"_Well aren't you for sugarcoating things today," Alistair shot back quietly. "I didn't want to react like that, I just…did. She made me King, sure, but she kept Duncan and Cailan's murderer alive and well. You can't possibly tell me that you feel it's alright that their murderer still walks a free man."_

"_No Alistair, I don't. But while Cailan's death and your friend Duncan's was something that Loghain should pay for, what's done has been done," a sad look crept onto Eamon's face upon his mentioning of Cailan. "Killing Loghain won't bring them back, and killing him wasn't actually a very brilliant idea in the beginning. I guess the only thing that makes this justified is that he's repaid his crimes, helping Ayne kill the Archdemon, saddled with the responsibility of the Grey Wardens. Had it been either of us to make the decision, it would have been brash and impractical, killing Loghain just for the sake of revenge." Getting up from his seat, he placed a hand on Alistair's shoulder. "Find it in your heart to forgive Loghain for what he did, to forgive her for her choice. Being angry at him will not bring neither Duncan or Cailan back."_

A splash was heard, and when Alistair looked up, what was left of the fire was doused from one of the guards on duty, who promptly greeted Alistair, returning to his duties after receiving a quick nod. He looked towards the distance. Vigil's Keep. He knew that Ayne would be in there, and he knew that he still cared for her. He hoped that whatever happened, she would find it in her to forgive him, and to accept his apology.

Moving back into his tent, he went over to the table that was set up within the tent. On it, a glass casing which stood upright, and within it, a small rose plant, with three roses growing within it. He had taken it with him when he left the castle, praying that they wouldn't wither until he got to the Vigil. Meticulous care had been taken to keep them alive, and he wasn't going to stop now. Not until it was safely in her hands, not until she understood where he was coming from. Sighing with relief upon seeing the roses growing healthily, he whipped out a dagger from behind his greaves, and quickly sliced the most beautiful rose among the three, keeping it in a slightly moist cloth satchel, attached to his armour.

As he recalled what had happened to the previous rose, he closed his eyes tightly, before reopening them, stepping out of his tent towards his men.

_Ayne…please, forgive me._

_

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Again, reviews are very, very welcome! TwT

The next chapter: why Alistair wants to visit in the first place!


	4. Fear

I am honestly sorry I took this long to churn out another chapter T_T Life, school and other stuff caught up with me, and I have been slogging my guts out for a great, important, disgustingly crucial exam at the end of the year. Oh joy.

Thank you to holyllama, Shakespira, Kokuun, Scarletstar20, sapphiretoes, celtic-twinkie, Ygrain33, Kayce-chan, Sharem, Sidani and Eva Galana for adding this to your story alert, it's just...amazing and scary at the same time knowing that there are actually people who wanted to put this on story alert.

Because of life however, please note that I probably will not be able to write new (and long) chapters as quickly as I'd like x_x I'm really sorry in advance!

As usual, I don't own Bioware or Dragon Age. Or Dragon Age II. Imagine the power I'd have if I did, mwahaha.

* * *

She stared at the fire in her study, contemplating, just sitting and wondering. The meeting with Alistair had gone…smoothly, if anything, and the news that he brought her was troubling. It struck up old memories, memories that she worked so hard to bury, only to resurface so easily and so quickly. Letting go of the pendant she was unconsciously fingering, she took a deep breath and let her head fall onto her fists. She knew what she had to do regarding the assigned task from King Alistair, but she didn't know what to do regarding the personal request Alistair, her past lover, had asked of her.

Turning her gaze onto her desk, a single rose was planted in a simple pot, watered and growing well. Looking at it, her heart ached, knowing what happened to the previous rose that was given to her. It was beautiful, and the scent was lovely, but having it in her view just made her think about their past. It stung her, just thinking about them.

"The Dalish Elves in Ostagar have sent me a missive," Alistair reached into the satchel attached to the side of his armour, and handed it to Varel who quickly passed it to Nathaniel. "Lanaya, Keeper of one of the clans states that her clan has come across a mirror, according to one of their scouts. Knowing that you have…knowledge, regarding these mirrors, I chose to pass this onto you." Handing the missive over to Ayne, Nathaniel saw a flicker of surprise, along with what seemed to be fear. What knowledge was Alistair talking about? What was it that managed to illicit such a reaction from Ayne?

It nagged at him, and he could tell Varel was curious as well. But neither of them said anything, as Ayne's eyes continued to read through the missive.

_Two scouts. _She felt her heart quicken as flashbacks started to happen in her mind, trickling in. _"You're just in time. I found these humans lurking in the bushes. Bandits no doubt."_

"Ayne, what I need you to do is to get rid of what is bothering the Dalish. Killing any remnants of the darkspawn around Ostagar would also be greatly appreciated by them. I remember they mentioned that while they were not outnumbered, removing any stragglers would be a great help...Ayne." Alistair tried to look at her, smiling weakly.

He was trying so hard to get her to respond to him – anyone who was there would have noticed that he called her Ayne, not "Commander" like most people did when they first met her. Truth be told, Nathaniel found himself getting annoyed. There was just...so much that he wanted to say, so much he wanted to do, including punching Alistair right in the face.

"Your Majesty, with all due respect, you could have just sent a messenger with the missive to the Vigil straightaway," Ayne folded the missive and placed it on the desk, staring straight into Alistair's eyes. Another flicker he noticed, but one of defiance and annoyance, adding a cold tinge to her stare. It was amazing that Alistair just stood there, not even flinching when most would have. "My men and I would have been able to start and finish the assignment much faster if you didn't have to come down personally to the Vigil to hand a missive to me," she bowed to him slightly, closing her eyes for just a moment. "Nathaniel, myself and two others will go tomorrow to Ostagar, and I will write the report and send it to you once the situation has been taken care of," her arm returned to her side after gesturing towards Nathaniel's general direction. Apart from the sound of Varel moving to get a map for Ayne to take with her, it was pure silence. The King and the Commander were silent, staring at each other with Ayne adopting her steely gaze once more.

Taking the map from Varel's hands, Ayne bent over the desk with the quill, presumably marking out the shortest route to Ostagar. "If that would be all, your Majesty? I do have other duties to attend to." Alistair fidgeted slightly, his hand resting over the satchel next to him again. Call it paranoia or his rogue's intuition, but that was the fifth time Alistair's hand went over that damn satchel ever since he laid eyes on Ayne.

He had a feeling he was going to hate the contents of that satchel.

Another silent moment as Ayne continued to scrawl over the map. Nathaniel's eyes darted to her hands. She was writing something – not marking out a path.

"Your Majesty, if there is nothing else, I would really like to resume my duties here," Ayne continued without looking up from the map, her back towards him as she spoke. It was difficult to read her expression from where he was standing, but her voice had wavered ever so slightly – she was nervous, and wanted to end the conversation quickly.

Another silent pause. Varel stood beside Nathaniel, waiting for the King to say something. Alistair stopped fidgeting and took a deep breath.

"Ayne…please, we need to talk," his gaze fell onto Varel and Nathaniel, an almost imploring tone in his voice, "alone, if the two gentlemen would so kindly exit the room."

"I can't talk to you now, Your Majesty, I have my duties to finish," Ayne's tone was undeniably cold as she looked up and threw an accusing look.

"Then I shall talk to you tonight. At the courtyard with the fountain. My men and I will only move from the Vigil tomorrow – I'd like them to have some rest before setting off," he looked at Varel as though pleading to him for help, "if that would be alright, Seneschal?"

Looking from Ayne to Alistair and back to Ayne who considered what he said for a moment, she gave him a quick but slight nod. "Then I will prepare the accommodations for your men and yourself, Your Majesty," Varel moved toward the door and gestured a hand to show him out. As Alistair followed, he looked at Ayne and back to Nathaniel, before he went out of the room, with Varel shutting the door.

As the pair walked away from the room, Ayne let herself heave a sigh of relief. Walking toward her to take the map from her, all Nathaniel saw was black ink marks all over the map – they made absolutely no sense to him. Amidst the random markings, two Elvish phrases were written at the very top of the map; _Vir Assan_, as well as _halam sahlin _in her handwriting. Understanding the meaning of _halam sahlin_, he arched an eyebrow as he turned to look at her, rolling up the map as he did so.

Her eyes were so focused, so determined, and yet so afraid. Staring at the quill and ink that lay on the table, she sighed, turning to look at Nathaniel, who arched his eyebrow as he looked from the map to her. "I know the map is ruined…help me plot a course for Ostagar, please, Nate?" her smile was weak as she looked at him, her mind obviously preoccupied with what Alistair was going to talk to her about. Letting herself sink into the chair behind her with a dull thud, she gave another sigh, letting her head rest in her palms.

Reaching for another map on the shelf behind him, he returned to the table and started to mark the route out. Scratches of the quill and an occasional sound from Ayne from her chair were heard, before Nathaniel placed the quill on the table, letting the ink dry. Turning to look at his Commander, she looked like a child hiding, her legs brought up to her chest, her head buried in her knees, arms folded. He had never seen her look so vulnerable before, so liable to get hurt. Taking the other chair in the room, he dragged it towards her, sitting himself on it as he watched silently.

A quiet sniffle was heard as she raised her head to look at Nathaniel. A tear rolled down as she looked at him, and he edged the chair closer toward her.

"It's alright, Co- Ayne," he said gently as her mouth opened to say something, "you'll be alright."

A tear rolled down. "This wasn't supposed to happen, Nate. I don't know what to do, I don't know what I'm going to say to him later," her voice crumpled as her head went down to her knees again, "I don't know what I actually feel anymore, Nate."

"I'm scared of what I feel, but by shutting it out I'm scared of losing what it means to feel, to have emotions." Her voice broke and trailed off as she looked up again. "Those mages that I've seen – the Tranquil. It's horrifying to see them not feel anything. I'm scared that I'm becoming something like them. I'm scared of not feeling anything, of not knowing what I actually feel, Nate. I don't trust myself to feel."

"What happened?" his voice concerned, she closed her eyes as she started to speak.

* * *

"How could you do that? How could you? Ayne, please, for the Maker's sake, how could you do this to me?"

"Alistair, I-"

"NO! I will not listen to this – I thought that you of all people understood why I was fighting so hard to do this, to get back at that bastard Loghain! So you made me King, big deal! He killed everyone I knew, everyone I considered my family! There's no one to celebrate this with anymore, least of all with you! I thought you understood me the most among the whole camp, but you! You sided with him and that…that bitch Anora! You are completely disregarding my feelings, _my_ sentiments on the matter. Don't you understand how much that man deserves to die? He killed Duncan, he killed so many people and he doesn't give a damn about what he did! He. Killed. Duncan." Alistair's voice dropped to a still at the last three words, his eyes furious as he took a step closer towards her. She was afraid, she could sense his anger, but no words would come out to defend herself, only being able to look at him in the eye as he ranted.

"Don't you have _anything _to say about this, great Hero?" His voice became scathing, lashing out at her, his tone mocking as he finished his sentence. She didn't know Alistair – not this side of him. It was unfamiliar, so foreign from the usual Alistair and it scared her.

"Please, Alistair, I couldn't let Anora watch her own father killed in front of her!" Alistair snorted, while Ayne felt her desperation rise. "You of all people understand the pain of having your father, your father figure, murdered in front of you. I saw how hurt you were, after the battle. You know that that kind of pain is immense, and it never fades. I can't inflict that kind of pain onto someone else, and I can't make you inflict it either. Please, we needed more Grey Wardens to fight, to defeat the Archdemon and save Ferelden. Loghain's a general, he understands how the battlefield works and he could take charge of the armies and plan the strategy to-"

"Oh right, let's go with this idea then. You let him take control of the armies, and have him wait on the sidelines, ready to charge when the signal is given. Let's send two people to Fort Drakon to light a flaming beacon, giving him the damn signal to charge!" He paused in mock wonderment. "Hmm, well doesn't that plan sound familiar? Wonder how that turned out. Oh wait, that's right, it brought about the death of Cailan Theirin and Duncan, among thousands of others! It sounds like a brilliant idea, let's just go with it!"

"Alistair, please-"

"No excuses," Alistair stormed to the stone walls, and gave it a punch, his gloves dented from the impact. "If you want Loghain to fight, then we no longer know each other. You'll have to choose who's more important to you. Me, or him."

"You can't expect me to choose, you know that I care for you, that I love you," Ayne's voice started to tremble, the hurt sinking in even more, "I'm just asking that you put your hatred aside a-"

"No." his fist removed itself from the wall, and he strode past her, turning his back to look out of the window. "If he is to fight, he will not be seen talking to me, or attempting to take control of the armies of this castle. He will take control of the armies that we have from our recruitments and treaties, apart from the Knights of Redcliffe. If he is to fight, you will be the one to take full responsibility of his actions, which includes how he may just get up and leave the battlefield like he did at Ostagar. Since you have chosen him over me...Ayne, we no longer know each other. I am the King of Ferelden, you are a Grey Warden I once knew."

"Alistai-"

"Out. Just get out."

Ayne had no idea that silence could be so deafening. It pounded in her ears, and she honestly, had no idea what to do. Hurt. Pain. Hopelessness. Fear. Desperation. The emotions she felt came rushing in, tackling her from all sides, her body unable to move from the spot she stood on. Refusing to let her emotions show, she looked at Alistair's back. It seemed so foreign now, and it scared her. She thought that she had made the best choice, knowing there was no turning back…but at what cost?

"Alistair! You're not being rational, please, would you just listen to me!" she shouted at him and she felt her knees tremble, like her spirit. She hated shouting. She hated raising her voice at him, the man she loved, but he was forcing her hand. He turned around and looked at her, his eyes evidently angry at her. "Stop shoving your ideas onto me! I'm trying to explain my actions to you, and you're not looking at it from my perspective at all!"

"Perspective? You want to bring that in now? He killed my entire family! He killed my half-brother, he killed Duncan, he killed so many people that you completely didn't know! If you even _knew _them like I did, you wouldn't be standing here hurling such words at me," he bounded towards her and she felt the fear in her rise once more. "You wouldn't be siding with them! If you loved me you wouldn't be doing this to me, Ayne!"

"Don't you dare bring love into this!" she felt the stinging tears stream down her face. She couldn't control it – it hurt to have her love for him questioned, when he had never done anything like that before. They shared kisses, didn't they? They held hands while in the camp, and she would fall asleep in his arms, waking in his arms when morning came. "How could you question what I feel for you now? How could you use that against me? I love you, Alistair, but please, see this through my eyes, that I cannot have you make a decision that you will regret down the road, doing what you want to do instead of what you _know_ should be done!"

"What _I know should be done_, is to have Loghain beheaded for what he did!" Alistair roared. He grabbed her by her arms, and she winced as the cold metal paired with his strength started to dig into her skin. "Why won't _you_ understand where I'm coming from?" he started to shake her as she continued to wince with the pain, as though he could force it into her with brute force.

She winced as his grip seemed to tighten even more. "Alistair, stop it, you're hurting me!" she finally screamed the last three words. His gloved hands pulled at the little pouch she always carried with her, falling to the ground. The breaking of glass was heard as he let her go, stopping to catch his breath, his gaze alternating from his hands to the ground. Ayne looked at her armour, eyeing the slight outline of his hands. It wasn't anything that couldn't fix…but Alistair had never hurt her before. Never.

"Ayne…Ayne, I'm so sorry, I-" Alistair took a step towards her, and she took a step back. The tears fell silently, her mouth open slightly, as though she wanted to say something but couldn't. She started to shake her head, taking another step back.

"Don't come near me," she breathed as he stopped in his tracks. Her eyes darted to the door. "Don't you dare lash out at me, hurt me, for doing what should be done, for choosing an option you disagree with. Don't use my love against me." Walking to the door, he turned around, his back facing her.

"I disregarded my own emotions and my sentiments. I placed my duty as a Grey Warden above all else, over what I wanted to do," Alistair heard her speak as her voice grew further and further away. "You've made your choice, and I'll…respect it. I didn't want it to turn out this way, Alistair. I'm sorry." He bowed his head as he heard her footsteps, first a brisk walk, then a jog, then a run from the room.

Somehow, suddenly, he felt the frustration. The anger, the undeniable heartbreak. His own tears started to fall, and he looked at the pouch on the ground. Lifting the cloth aside, he felt something inside of him break.

It was the rose. The glass casing around it was shattered from the impact of falling when he hurt her. Water, stained red, surrounded the flower. She knew that it was wilting while they were travelling, and decided to bring his love everywhere with her – in a different form. Removing his gloves, he tried to pick up the petals. A stab. Somehow it felt dull, like the edge of a blunt sword. As he pulled the glass shard from his finger, a bead of blood dripped and fell, almost in time with his tears. He didn't know what to do.

He didn't know love was this painful.

She ran to the fountain. Staring at the reflection, she could only cry even harder.

The pendant she wore dangled forward. A memory of her clan. A memory of her friends, her family…of Tamlen, even, from time to time.

"Never again," she stared into the eyes of her reflection. She stared back. "I will not be weak anymore. I can't let things like these happen to me and affect me, not again."

First Tamlen.

Then her clan.

Tamlen again.

Now Alistair.

It didn't pay to fall in love. It wasn't worth it to feel the pain and cry the tears after it was all over.

It didn't matter to anyone at all that she was still in love with Alistair, even though he hurt her that much, that badly.

It wasn't wise to have her emotions displayed so easily – it was just vulnerable to get torn apart. She learnt that now.

Dipping her hands into the alarmingly cold water, she splashed it all over her face.

"_Always...loved you. I'm so sorry."_

It was freezing.

"_I love you."_

It hurt.

Walking away from the fountain, the water continued to flow down her face. It was hard to tell which were tears, and which was water.

* * *

"I don't know what to do now, Nate," she whispered. It was surprising, but suddenly, the burden from her secrecy felt lighter. Her throat relaxed from the previously choked state it was in, and her head didn't feel as heavy. She looked at him while he looked back at her, hands clasped, his eyes showing concern and sympathy. She could tell he was racking his brains for something to say, something to make her feel better and to take comfort in. She didn't actually need him to force out kinds words for her.

Just his presence and his willingness to listen to her was enough. She just needed someone to listen to her. Just once, no interruptions.

"I'm scared of facing Alistair alone. I don't even know whether or not I still feel for him, selfish as it is," she heard her words flow out, for once, without running them through her head to consider any consequences. "And yet, I want to be alone with him such that I can settle everything once and for all, in my own way and my own time."

"You don't have to be afraid of him. There's nothing to be afraid of," his gentle voice came as he stood up, dragging his seat to be even closer to her as she looked up. "He chose to come to you. It's probably his way of saying that he wants to talk about it and that he won't react the way that he did before."

"But what if it goes wrong? Again? What if it doesn't settle things between us, and only makes them worse?"

_What if I find out that I still care about him, even after all this time, after everything that was done to bring me down?_

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained. The reason why you're afraid to see him is because you have that glimmer of hope that things would go well - that you could lose it if you tried. Hold onto it and go to see him, I'm sure things will work out to be fine," he gave her another reassuring smile, "And if you want, I can always go with you to see him."

"I don't-"

"You wouldn't even notice I'd be there. I won't intrude on your conversation at all – I'll just be there to stop things if they get out of hand, if at all possible," he placed a hand over hers as he looked straight into her eyes. "You're more than just a Commander to me, Ayne. I want to help you."

He looked straight at her, but suddenly she felt she couldn't meet his gaze. Heat crept onto her face, and she couldn't hold the gaze for very long, breaking away from his stare. _What's wrong with me?_ The silence continued as an ember in the fire crackled. Taking the silence as his cue to leave, Nathaniel got up from the chair, letting go of his Commander's hands.

"Just...go for tonight's meeting, Ayne, everything will be fine," his gentle tone again as she let her head rise, catching only a glimpse of his body moving out of the room. "I promise you – I'll be there."

* * *

**Author's Ending Notes**: Well...that's all I have so far. (geez, you'd think that with 6 months I'd bring a chapter of a longer length no?) Reviews are very welcome :D

Hopefully I'll have another chapter done up soon? Fingers crossed!


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